


Patrick Has a Truck (Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

by ohnoscarlett



Series: Farmer's Market [4]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, farmers market AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-09
Updated: 2007-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoscarlett/pseuds/ohnoscarlett
Summary: Immediately following the events of“Patrick’s Garden Center.”He had just propositioned some random guy right there at the farmer’s market!  (2989 words)





	Patrick Has a Truck (Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

**Author's Note:**

>  Beta by [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[tuesdaysgone](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/)and [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[kueble](http://kueble.livejournal.com/). Plus, this whole deal was conceived by [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[kueble](http://kueble.livejournal.com/), when she drove over to my house and saw the actual Patrick's Garden Center down the road and essentially freaked out over it. Hee. This is not the same Patrick, nor Patrick's Garden Center. Please see the disclaimer.

  
**TITLE:** Patrick Has a Truck(Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

  
**AUTHOR:**  Cara ([](http://ohnoscarlett.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ohnoscarlett.livejournal.com/) **ohnoscarlett** )  
**RATING:**  NC-17.  
**PAIRING, IF ANY:**  Pete/Patrick

  
**SUMMARY:**  Immediately following the events of [“Patrick’s Garden Center.”](http://caras-fic.livejournal.com/6234.html#cutid1) He had just propositioned some random guy right there at the farmer’s market!  (2989 words) **  
DISCLAIMER:**   This is a work of fiction.  _Obviously_.

  
**NOTES:**  Beta by [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[ **tuesdaysgone**](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[**kueble**](http://kueble.livejournal.com/). Plus, this whole deal was conceived by [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[**kueble**](http://kueble.livejournal.com/), when she drove over to my house and saw the actual Patrick's Garden Center down the road and essentially freaked out over it. Hee. This is not the same Patrick, nor Patrick's Garden Center. Please see the disclaimer.

  


**"PATRICK HAS A TRUCK"**

Patrick glanced at Pete quickly as they descended the half a dozen or so steps from the ice cream parlor. His eyes were shining and it looked like he was going to burst into laughter at any minute. It made something twist in Patrick’s gut.  _What the hell was he doing?_  He had just propositioned—or, wait, had he just _been_ propositioned? Some random guy right there at the farmer’s market!

   


Pete chose that moment to laugh.

Patrick’s head snapped up.

“Man, you are thinking _way_ too hard,” Pete said breathlessly. Patrick blushed and Pete bumped him with his shoulder. When he spoke again, his lips were practically on Patrick’s ear. “ _Just roll with it_.”

Patrick straightened and slowed his pace. Pete crowded him and chuckled in his ear. He backed off when Patrick stopped and thrust his hands in his pockets.

“This is me.”

“Huh?”

“My truck.”

“Oh,” Pete replied, sounding surprised. “It _was_ right here, then, wasn’t it.”

“Pretty much,” said Patrick, gesturing with the keys he had pulled out of his pants pocket. Pete grinned and practically skipped around to the passenger side. Patrick shook his head and smiled to himself as he climbed in. Guy was hot, but… quirky?  _Let’s go with quirky._  Pete slammed the door and made a goofy face. Patrick laughed in spite of himself. Patrick really was too serious for his own good.

“My place,” Pete leaned across the seat toward Patrick, “is just around the corner; a couple blocks from here.”

Patrick dropped his keys.

Pete stretched down to snag them with nimble fingers before Patrick even twitched in their direction. He sat up slowly, eyes on Patrick, mischief lurking in his features. Patrick expected him to say something, but Pete just regarded him contemplatively for a moment. Then he grinned again and slapped Patrick’s keys in his hand.

Patrick started the truck and drove the short distance under Pete’s guidance. No further delay. As luck would have it, Pete had a parking spot in the garage under his building. Pete, however, never used it, as he had no car. Made it convenient for his mom to come over, he said.

“Yeah, your mom and anybody else,” said Patrick with a laugh.

“What are you implying?” Patrick snapped his mouth shut. Perhaps not the best course of action to question the honor of someone with whom you hoped to be doing, well, _something_ in the near future. But Pete just smirked at him. “Turn in there.”

Patrick had barely cut the engine before Pete was on him. He was out of his seatbelt and tugging on Patrick’s. Patrick untangled himself from the strap and turned to catch Pete’s lips with his own. It was maddeningly brief. Pete reached across him and pulled on the door handle, his mouth dragging down to Patrick’s jaw, nipping. Pete slid onto Patrick’s lap—again, only briefly—long enough to suck his earlobe into his mouth and whisper, “Come on,” before kicking open the door and dragging Patrick out behind him.

Pete led him up three flights of stairs. Patrick was mildly irritated at finding himself out of breath outside what must be Pete’s door. It could have been worse. Pete could have lived on the fourth or fifth floor. And Patrick could have made the climb without benefit of Pete’s rather fine ass mere inches from his nose most of the way.  _Could have been worse_.

Pete’s door clicked open and Patrick found himself dragged bodily into a tiny, dark apartment. He barely had his footing before Pete threw him against the wall. Patrick grunted. Pete had him by his lapels and dipped his head to lick a wide stripe up his neck before sucking on his ear again. Patrick drew a shuddering breath.

“You’re very…” Pete bit him. “Direct.” Patrick could feel Pete’s lips curving into a smile even as his tongue flicked his ear.

“I find it to be the best way to get what I want.” Pete shoved a knee between Patrick’s thighs and ground him into the wall. Patrick sagged into the pressure. His fingers scrabbled at an inexplicable number of layers of fabric at Pete’s hips. When he found skin, he dug in, forcing Pete to hiss and jerk against him.

And then the clothes started to hit the floor.

The way Patrick saw it, Pete’s tiny, dark apartment was some sort of memory-erasing time-suck. One minute he was being pressed up against the wall by an equally tiny and dark Pete. The next he was on the floor with his pants around his knees, Pete’s head bobbing in his lap, and really no idea how he got there. Not that he was complaining, mind you. Pete had an amazing mouth.

It was just light enough to make out a dim outline of Pete when Patrick looked in his direction. Pete looked up at him at the same time, and Patrick could see his eyes gleaming in the near darkness. He could also see his arm slithering down between their bodies and start what could only be jerking himself off. Patrick choked, and Pete sucked harder. Patrick came suddenly, with a gasp, and thumped his head on the floor.

Patrick felt, more than heard, Pete chuckle around him.

Patrick’s eyes slipped closed as Pete pulled off him. One last swipe of his tongue made Patrick flail a bit and open his eyes. Pete was laughing silently and licking his lips. His eyes seemed to bore into him, and Patrick shuddered, his eyes sliding closed again.

Pete lunged up from his crouched position between Patrick’s legs. He climbed up Patrick’s body and settled on his chest. His impossibly tight pants were undone, but hardly pushed down at all. Patrick came out of his post-orgasmic haze enough to grasp his hips, stroking his thumbs along the prominent bones. He gazed up Pete’s body, surprised at the sheer mass of tattoos. He never would have guessed all that was there from the mere glimpse he had gotten peeking out from under the cuff of his hoodie.

Patrick just opened his mouth to ask Pete what he wanted, but Pete shook his head and cut him off.

“I want you to watch.”

Patrick’s mouth remained open.

Pete slid his hands down Patrick’s arms and over his hands where they rested at his hips. He used Patrick’s hands to help ease his jeans down, just the tiniest fraction. It seemed to be enough, though, because Pete released him and passed one hand over his abs and the black tattoo that was there. He reached into his pants and nudged his hard cock into view. 

Patrick just tried not to squirm.

Pete stroked himself slowly. All the way from base to tip. Nothing fancy. The occasional twist. Patrick didn’t know where to look. There was the obvious choice, of course, but… The light had shifted, and now there was a spare sliver of light coming underneath the blinds that hit Pete dead on. It wasn’t much. It was still pretty dark. But Patrick could see him clearly now, and he fairly glistened. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and as his breathing picked up, his chest heaved. Patrick could see his muscles moving under his skin. But then again, there were his eyes. Pete’s great dark eyes that had first caught Patrick’s attention that morning.

Patrick startled.

  
_That was just this morning_.

“ _Oh, fuck_.” It came out as almost a growl.   Pete looked down at him with hooded eyes and bit his lip. Hard, because Patrick could see it turning white around the edges. His pace picked up, and his breath hitched. Patrick didn’t breathe.

But he did dig his thumbnails into the thin skin at Pete’s hips.

Pete cried out and thrust back against him and into his hand. Once, twice. The third time stuttered and Pete came over his clenched fist and onto Patrick’s chest.

Pete sat there on Patrick’s chest for a minute, then he rearranged his pants. He shifted and wiggled a bit until he was resting with his elbows on Patrick’s either side. He had wiped his own hand off on his discarded t-shirt, but he hadn’t cleaned up Patrick, nor had he given him a chance to do it himself. In fact, Pete had dipped his finger in the come on Patrick’s chest and was tracing lazily with it, smearing it all over Patrick’s skin.

“So,” Pete’s head was ducked, “this is my apartment.” A dog barked. Pete raised his head and smiled. “That’s Hemmy. He probably wants out.”

“Uh…” Patrick stammered.  _So do I? Sort of?_  Pete looked at him quizzically, head cocked.

“Are you ok?” Pete asked. He sat up carefully and grabbed his t-shirt again to quickly dab at Patrick. Patrick took a deep breath.

“I think—“ Patrick started hesitantly.

“Oh, no, no,” Pete shook his head. “You’ve made it this far; you are _not_ going to freak out on me now.”

“But we just—“

“ _Fucked?_ ” Patrick kind of nodded, avoiding Pete’s steady gaze. Pete just shrugged and threw up his hands. “People do it all the time. Is there a problem?” Pete’s hands were now fisted on his hips, indignant. Funny, given that he was still perched on Patrick’s chest, effectively pinning him to the floor.

“I don’t usually… We just met _this morning_ ,” Patrick said quietly, half to the floor. Pete jostled him as he shifted again.   He bent over and captured Patrick’s jaw in his hand, turning his face toward him.

“Look at me,” Pete said gently. Righteous indignation gone, apparently. Patrick peeked up through his lashes and found Pete smiling softly at him. “Are you afraid that I’m going to think you’re some sort of slut?” Patrick glanced away and Pete bumped his jaw until he looked back. “Because I _told_ you. I tend to use direct means, because it’s the best way to get what I want.” Pete stroked his thumb along the corner of Patrick’s mouth, and Patrick leaned into it. Pete leaned down until he lay atop Patrick again, both still bare, skin to skin. He stretched his neck and spoke directly in Patrick’s ear. “I want _you_ , Patrick.” Patrick shuddered at the emphasis. “Why should I have to wait if I know what I want?”

  
_Oh, fuck it_.

Patrick grabbed Pete’s head and kissed him hard. He heaved up and rolled them over, Pete thumping mercifully into something soft laying on the floor.

“That’s exactly what I was talking about,” Pete said when he drew back, smirking.

“It really is the curse of the 21st century. Everyone is addicted to instantaneous gratification,” Patrick deadpanned. Pete laughed. “And besides, I had to get you off me. I think you were crushing my pelvis.” Pete laughed harder.

“I think—“ Pete gasped, between giggle fits. “I think that there is nothing wrong with instantaneous gratification. As long as you know what you want and know what you’re going to get. Or can deal with the consequences.”

“Wow, that’s…” Patrick scratched his head. “Dude, you almost sound like my lawyer.”

“That’s because I _am_ a lawyer. Almost.” Patrick’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. He sat up and pulled Pete with him.

“ _Huh_. Never would have called that one.” Pete cuffed him lightly on the arm.

“Shut up. Don’t make me bust out the big words on you.” Pete was halfway into his t-shirt before he reconsidered it and tossed it aside. “I still have a year left of law school.”

“ _Huh_. Well, ok. I can kind of see it,” Patrick replied thoughtfully. “You’re very persuasive.” Pete raised an eyebrow at him and stood up.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand to Patrick on the floor. Patrick took it and hopped to his feet.

“ _See?_  I do what you say.” Pete cuffed him again. “I don’t know why… You’re kind of mean.”

“Yeah, but I give great head.” Patrick blushed and studiously searched for his t-shirt. Pete found it first and handed it over, but didn’t let go when Patrick grabbed on; instead, using it to pull Patrick toward him. “I only deal in truths here.”

Patrick just kind of blinked at him.

Pete snatched a kiss before thrusting Patrick’s shirt into his hands and turning away. But not before Patrick caught a glimpse of a sly smile.  _What the hell had he gotten himself into?_  Guy was kind of a nut. Wait, wait—we’re sticking with quirky.

“Let’s go, man! My dog needs to go out.”

“What? Like, on a walk?” With his head stuck inside his t-shirt, information must not pass readily to Patrick’s brain.

“Uh, _yeah_. You’re familiar with the concept, I assume?” Patrick’s head popped out of his shirt and he could see Pete standing by a door with his hand on the knob, waiting. “Go for a stroll? Take a turn? Once around the block?” Pete’s grin spread with every word, until he was fairly leering at him. “You’ve been around the block, _haven’t you Patrick?_ ”

Patrick couldn’t help it. He burst into the least masculine fit of giggles ever to be seen in the history of modern man.

“ _Oh my god!_ ” he breathed. When he could. “How did I ever let you pick me up when you come up with lines like _that?_ ” Pete just shrugged and made some gesture at himself. Well, there was that. Then he opened the door.

Patrick was bowled over by a tiny bundle of wrinkles and tongue.

“Meet Hemmy,” said Pete with a flourish. Patrick sat on the floor again, examining the puppy. He was adorable.

“’Hemi’? Like, ‘hey, does that have a hemi in it?’” Patrick asked between enthusiastic puppy kisses to his chin. Pete just squinted at him, clueless. “Hemi? The engine? Apparently not.” Pete shook his head.

“Hemingway.” Ah.  _And he reads, too_. Patrick was screwed. “Shall we?” Pete swung a leash that he must have plucked from thin air. The puppy jumped up and bounded over to him, skidding to a stop at Pete’s feet. Patrick stood and spied his hat by the front door. By the time he was properly covered, Pete had the puppy ready to go.

They really did just walk around the block. Hemmy was just a little guy, and he had stumpy legs. Which made Patrick laugh when Pete said it, and led to them actually learning each other’s full names. Which, in turn, made Patrick feel a little better about the whole thing.

They talked. As much as a walk around the block will permit, anyway. Patrick learned where Pete was going to school, his major, his general plans for the future. He told Pete about his business, and the market.

“Not very exciting, I’m afraid,” Patrick said.

“Exciting enough.” Hemmy interjected with a bark. “See, Hemmy approves.” They both laughed. The puppy seemed unconcerned.

“Well, it’s not like _you_. Environmental Law? Who gets into that around here anyway? Kind of asking for trouble, what with the Big Agriculture and all.” Yes, Patrick said it with capital letters. Everybody did. Big Agriculture was scary if you were a small farmer. And there were a lot of small farmers around the area.

Pete shrugged. “I like trouble,” he said with a grin. “Besides, I don’t want to stay here.” Patrick actually felt himself droop. “I want to go to Washington and lobby.”

That revelation killed the conversation for a bit. Patrick didn’t really know what to say to that.

“So. Patrick,” said Pete, after a little while. They were almost back to the front of Pete’s building. Pete stood, kicking at a raised edge of the cement with his toes, and watched Hemmy snuffle at the grass of a meter-square green spot around a spindly tree. Patrick watched him. He really was lovely. It was kind of sad that he knew he would never get to have a relationship with him, if he was leaving. But that was Patrick. One fuck and it was love. Or, you know, it could be. He really had to work on that. Pete looked up and caught him watching. He really had to work on that, too. He was not so much surreptitious as _completely_ obvious.

But Pete smiled at him, so it was ok.

“I should get going,” Patrick said softly. “I should’ve been back at the shop, uh… hours ago. They probably think I’m dead.”

“I didn’t even think—I’m sorry,” Pete said, contrite. “You’re right; you should go.” He tugged on Hemmy’s leash and stared at his shoes.

“Well, if I can’t get away once in a while, what good is it to be the boss anyway, right?” Pete laughed. Patrick loved the sound of it, and he was really getting used to hearing it, and he was so, so in trouble.

“So, uh… What do you say next time we go for a drive? Maybe out to the parklands, take the baby out for his first hike? He could use the exercise. Looks like he’s getting kind of round.”

“I think he’s supposed to be round,” Patrick countered. Then shyly, barely loud enough to be heard out of his own hat, “next time?”

“Yeah,” said Pete confidently, “next time.” He smiled brightly at Patrick, who promptly forgot all about Washington. Pete leaned in close. “I’m really just using you for your truck, you know. So I can get out of the city.”  Patrick held his breath, but he could feel Pete’s on his neck as he spoke in his ear. “Or so I can get _you_ out of the city. And fuck you in the back of your truck.”

Patrick took a second.

“You really don’t want to do that.”

“ _Don’t I?_ ” said Pete.

“No,” Patrick replied.

“Why not?”  


“The back of my truck is gross. There are much better places where we could—“

  
   
"Well, we'll just have to find them then, won't we?"

</div>


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